My dad was a Mormon, my mother an Episcopalian. Unable to agree which faith to raise their children in, they agreed on no faith at all. Because of this, Christian traditions like Lent have always confused me. I appreciated Terry Mattingly’s March 15 explanation of what it’s all about.
My Christian friends in college often gave up desserts for Lent, though I suspected it was driven by a desire to lose weight. Not that I was judging. Borderline anorexic in college, I didn’t need an excuse to skip desserts or other foods.
Skipping dessert for Lent seemed practical, if not particularly religious.
One Good Friday evening I went down to the cafeteria for dinner. My Christian friends had gone home for the Easter weekend, a holiday my family didn’t celebrate. I sat with Mike, a guy I knew from my computer science classes.
Though I usually liked dorm food, Friday dinner was the worst meal of the week. They served fish for the Catholics along with some other usually yucky meat, which that night was ham.
Ham was yucky meat. Cafeteria fish was nothing to write home about. I did my usual Friday night meal: salad bar, peanut butter and crackers.
Mike did likewise, though for a different reason. “I don’t know how they could serve ham on the Passover,” he said.
I tried to empathize. When I was little they didn’t have lean ham like they do today. As a child I’d bite into a ham sandwich, get a mouthful of fat and gag.
My Christian friends gave up desserts for Lent. Mike gave up pork. If I were going to give up something for Lent, I’d probably choose pork, too.
My husband’s family serves ham for Easter dinner, an American tradition Blake assures me is the product of a 20th century marketing campaign by the pork industry, and not a conspiracy against Jews. After returning from shopping this year, Blake held up the package of lamb for Easter dinner and said, “Behold, the lamb of Whole Foods, that will be cooked by Blake.”
Traditions change for many reasons.
My Christian friends in college often gave up desserts for Lent, though I suspected it was driven by a desire to lose weight. Not that I was judging. Borderline anorexic in college, I didn’t need an excuse to skip desserts or other foods.
Skipping dessert for Lent seemed practical, if not particularly religious.
One Good Friday evening I went down to the cafeteria for dinner. My Christian friends had gone home for the Easter weekend, a holiday my family didn’t celebrate. I sat with Mike, a guy I knew from my computer science classes.
Though I usually liked dorm food, Friday dinner was the worst meal of the week. They served fish for the Catholics along with some other usually yucky meat, which that night was ham.
Ham was yucky meat. Cafeteria fish was nothing to write home about. I did my usual Friday night meal: salad bar, peanut butter and crackers.
Mike did likewise, though for a different reason. “I don’t know how they could serve ham on the Passover,” he said.
I tried to empathize. When I was little they didn’t have lean ham like they do today. As a child I’d bite into a ham sandwich, get a mouthful of fat and gag.
My Christian friends gave up desserts for Lent. Mike gave up pork. If I were going to give up something for Lent, I’d probably choose pork, too.
My husband’s family serves ham for Easter dinner, an American tradition Blake assures me is the product of a 20th century marketing campaign by the pork industry, and not a conspiracy against Jews. After returning from shopping this year, Blake held up the package of lamb for Easter dinner and said, “Behold, the lamb of Whole Foods, that will be cooked by Blake.”
Traditions change for many reasons.
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